Letters to Lexi
by madhertz
Summary: Lillian just wants to be left alone. The problem is, everyone in her life sees her as a damaged creature on the verge of a breakdown. It isn't until she finds an unlikely ally that she is really able to open up about her "problem". An atypical love story of two outcasts brought together out of mutual tastes in music, a distrust of authority, and a suicide.
1. Chapter 1

My shrink Dr. Pittenburg (AKA Dr. Pits) told me keeping a diary would help me with my "problem." I think that's a load of bull but my parents are paying a lot of money for this guy so I guess I'll name an effort. But I'm not calling this a diary. I am not a pretentious princess who thinks that my life is so incredibly fantastic and dramatic that I have to write it all down so everyone can read it and admire me. No, this is a journal. Like what journalist use. Business, strictly business. Well, without further ado, here is the spectacular **journal** of Lilian Adi Stevenson.

P.S. Bite me Pits

Sat. 8/24/2013

Dear Journal,

I'm not really sure how this is suppose to work or what I am suppose to say so I guess I will just tell you what has happened. But not about the "problem," Mainly because the "problem" is a figment of my parents imagination and doesn't truly exist. No, I will not be telling you about the "problem." Dr. Pits wants to know what is going on with me so how about I just write about my life. Get ready to be bored by the mundane expose of an insignificant high school sophomore. But where to start? Well since you don't get to know about the "problem" how about I start with you.

Today was my first meeting with the crazy's doctor extraordinaire, Dr. Pittenburg, who's wheezy monotone and patronizing niceties are enough to turn anyone into a depressed suicidal maniac. Nevertheless, my parents have been worried about me and practically begged me to go and talk to him. I don't want them to worry so I grudgingly allowed my mother to drive me to Dr. Pits' office at the bottom of Newgate hill.

The waiting room was a nauseating yellow color with a handful of chairs lined up against the far wall. Annoyingly optimistic posters covered the walls displaying their unrealistically cute animals preaching annoying mantras such as "Hang in there!" and "Have a purrfect day!" _Highlights_ magazines littered the coffee table in the middle of the room and dolls, blocks and legos carpeted the floor, just waiting to twist someones ankle. For some ungodly reason my parents decide to send me to a children's doctor even though I'm 15.

After about five games of solitaire on my phone a middle aged women walks out of Dr. Pits' office with a boy who couldn't be older than 6. The assistant at the office window tells me I can go in. After my mom assures me for the tenth time that she will be waiting right outside if I need anything, I enter the Pits' office for my first psych evaluation.

Mr. Pits' office was even more chaotic then the waiting room. The light brown walls were almost completely covered by shelves and cabinets stock piled with books, toys and games. Animal figurines were sprawled across the floor. Paper snowflakes from the previous winter were stuck to the dirty and foggy windows. A small desk was tucked in the corner and was so plastered with paper and books that it seemed unusable. For a place that was suppose to help people with their mental problems, the office would be hell for someone suffering from OCD.

Dr. Pits was sitting in a short square chair that matched his body shape. His fake smile reached all across his face from one large, saggy ear to the other. His head was almost completely bald except for a ring of white stringy hair that wrapped around the circumference of his skull. The largeness of his hooked nose was emphasized by the small spectacles perched on the tip of his nose; glasses which were way out of proportion compared to his other facial features. That is except for his needy dark eyes.

"Miss Stevenson," Pits said in his nasally monotone as he rose from his chair and offered me his hand, "such a pleasure to finally meet you."

I returned his fake smile and shook his hand while already mocking his appearance in my mind.

"Please, won't you sit down," he said, gesturing to one of those stereotypical psychiatrist chairs with a raised back attached to a long bench for a patient to lie down on. The thought of lying down on that chair and having Pits dive into my mind and try to dissect my problems made me cringe. Only people with problems lie on chairs like that and I don't have a problem. Instead I perched myself on top of the back of the chair. I was higher up than Pits. I was in control. "Very well then," Pits said in response to my perch as he scribbled a note on his clipboard. "So why don't you tell me why you are here," he continued.

"I'm here because my parents think I have a problem."

"Do you think you have a problem?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because there is no reason for me to have a problem."

"Well then why do your parents think you have a problem?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask them?"

"Because I am asking you."

There was a moment of silence as we sized each other up. My mother's plea to me to at least make an effort at therapy surfaced in my mind along with a stab of guilt.

"My parents think I am depressed because my friend killed herself," I revealed. By the lack of surprise on Pits face I assumed he already knew this but decided to make me admit it anyways. Dumb sadistic therapists.

"So are you depressed?" he asked.

"I am after being in that obnoxious waiting room."

"How do you feel about your friends suicide?"

I paused, taken aback by his directness. "What kind of a question is that?"

"A simple one. How do you feel about your friends suicide?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know."

"You must feel something."

"Well right now I am feeling homicidal due to your aggravating questions."

Pits scribbled more notes on to his clipboard, the scratch of his pen giving me a headache.

"I want to help you Lilian, but if I am going to do that, I need you to work with me," Pits told me as he stared at me with those beady eyes, which I had decided were more like weasel eyes than human eyes.

I remained silent as we once again studied each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

"So when does school start?" Pits asked, breaking the stalemate.

"Tuesday," I answered as a feeling of dread started to swallow me due to the thought of having to go back to school in just two days.

"What grade are you going to be in?"

"Tenth."

"Taking any cool classes?"

"No."

"Looking forward to anything?"

"No."

"Not even seeing your friends again?"

"My friend is dead."

"I mean your other friends."

"It was always just me and Lexi."

"And Lexi is the friend who committed suicide?"

Silence.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"What activities did Lexi like to do?"

"She liked to be in the woods."

"Why was that?"

"How should I know?"

"Because you were her friend."

"Were? Am I no longer her friend?"

"She's dead."

"People can't be friends with the dead?"

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"What activities do you like to do Lilian?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"There has to be something?"

"I like to sit in my room and not have old weasel bird nosed men ask me questions."

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"Did Lexi ever tell you she was suicidal?"

"No."

"Did she ever tell you she was depressed or troubled?"

"No."

"Do you wish she had?"

And that was when I stopped talking. Pits continued to make scratches and ask me questions but I didn't answer. He had overstayed his welcome.

For about the next ten minutes he tried to get me to talk to nonexistent success. Eventually he gave up.

"I guess I will just go call your mother in," he said, rising from his chair and heading towards the door. I moved off of my perch and sat on the edge of his weird psycho coach thing. My mom entered the office and he offered for her to sit down in the chair opposite him.

He continued to tell her his diagnosis. Depression, mainly, with some possible PTSD and a slight hint of Neurosis, all together making one steaming stew of crazy.

"With school about to start, I would prefer to not put her on any medications at this time," the weasel continued, "The school year will be enough of a stressful adjustment without trying to add new medications on top of it. I do think that she should continue meeting with me, once a week. The receptionist outside can help you find a day and time. I think it is also a good idea for her to keep a diary. She is having a hard time voicing her thoughts and I am sure that she has a lot of them right now. The diary would provide her with an outlet until she gets more comfortable talking to someone. How does that sound Lilian?"

Surprised I looked up from the hangnail I had been picking at, "Oh I didn't realize I had any say in this situation. And it's Miss Stevenson."

"Lily," my mom finally chastised.

"Fine, whatever," I sighed.

Pits stood up and moved over to his desk. He pulled out a composition notebook and handed it to me. "I want you to write in that everyday, as best you can. Bring it when you come in next week and I'll look over what you read and we can start treatment from there."

"That sounds great Dr. Pittenburg," my mom said, rising from her chair and shaking the weasel's hand, "Thank you for all your help."

"Lilian, until next time," he extended his hand to me. I glared at it for a moment, wanting more to spit at it then shake it, but seeing the pleading look in my mom's eyes, I finally reached and took his hand.

"So how did it go?" my mom asked me once we had gotten in the car.

"I hate him."

"Please, Lily, don't be so dramatic. He is going to help you. This is good for you," she sighed, "Will you please just try, for me?"

I hate it when my mom pulls the guilt stuff on me. I really don't want them to worry about me. I know ever since they found Lexi, my parents have been fearing that I will run off and do the same thing. But I'm fine. I guess the only way to prove that to them is to keep seeing Pits. So I just sighed and nodded and promised I would try.

"I have a surprise for you," she said.

"What?"

"As a thank you for coming today I thought maybe we could make a stop at that record store you like. You can pick out any one you want and I will pay for it. My gift to you."

At this I actually smiled. My mom always seems to know just how to bribe me.

The record store my mom was referring to was a place called Grooves Records ( I know, corny-ass name) and they sold actual vinyl records. Over the summer I had rescued my parents old turntable from the attic and had been starting my own vinyl collection since, mainly modern stuff, but with a few classics hear and there. I spent a lot of time at Grooves this summer, especially after the whole Lexi thing. The guy who owns it, Hyde, is pretty cool. One time I had a bit of a meltdown in his store, balled up in the corner sobbing. I had come to the store to get away from everything for awhile, but it all sort of followed me there. I had hidden myself pretty well and no one saw me for over an hour. It wasn't until Hyde had started locking up when he found me. He was really chill about it though. He got me a glass of water and a package of Oreos he had stashed in his office and just sat with me for an hour talking about music and records, not asking me one question about what was wrong, not passing one judgement. He told me how he really liked the rock and roll legend types, AC/DC, Zeppelin, KISS, Pink Floyd. I told him I like the more modern indie/alternative stuff like The Lumineers and Of Monsters and Men. That was the night he introduced me to Greg Laswell and gave me Laswell's album _Three Flights from Alto Nido._ on the house as he put it. It has this one song "Comes and Goes (In Waves)" that, I swear, I have listened to like 100 times. It is one of those songs where you can feel yourself identify with every single line. After giving me the record he drove me home. Now he always gives me an Oreo each time I buy a record at his store.

"Hey Hyde," I said as I entered Grooves, my mom following me in.

"How's it going Lil," he replied as he put away a stack of records.

"Hanging in there," I replied as I started shifting through the Alternative music bins.

He put his stack of records down and walked over towards me, "Hey I finally got that Greg Laswell album you were asking for."

"You did!"

"Ya, some dude brought in a copy a few days ago and sold it to me. I've been saving it for you in the back. You want it?"

"Ya! Obviously!"

I followed him to the back of the store and waited at the check out counter as he went into his office and retrieved the album. "Here we are," he said as he came to the counter, "Greg Laswell's _Landlines_."

He handed the album over to me. It was a little dinged up having been used but all in all it was in pretty good shape. "Hyde you rock!"

"Did you find the one you want?" my mom asked, coming up behind me.

"Ya, I did," I answered, showing her the album.

Hyde rang us up and as usual, gave me an Oreo as my mom paid for the record.

After that we headed home. Mom made dinner and now I am in my room listening to my new record and writing my first journal entry for Pitt. I think I already have my favorite song on the album. It's the first track, a song called "Come Back Down". It is sort of like the harsh - but - coming - from - a - good - place sort of pep talk/intervention you would expect from a best friend. Exactly what I think I need.

I'm still not really sure how I feel about this journal thing. It feels really weird talking to a journal, but until I can think of something or someone better to write to I guess this is all I've got. Well, until next time I guess.

-Lily


	2. Chapter 2

Mon. 8/26/2013

Dear Journal,

God I hate the way that sounds. A journal is a thing, not a person, so why the hell am I writing to it? I really have to think of something better to address these entries to.

Most high school students would spend their last day of summer off at parties or barbecues or pools or country clubs or whatever the hell typical high school students that don't have dead friends do. For example, Mason, my older, disgusting, disloyal, smart mouth, jack ass of a brother, was off at the Senior year kick off pot-luck. My mom asked him if he could take me with him (she wanted to get me out of the house because she thinks that I am super depressed and never leave my bed), which was a thought that both of us deeply opposed. The last thing anyone as douchey as Mason would want would be their "mentally deranged" little sister following him and his friends and the last thing I would want is to be stuck around any of the pea-sized brains that the morons who want to be friends with Mason most likely have. Seriously, anyone who would want to be his friend needs to be locked up in a mental institution immediately for having a dangerous low IQ level and seriously bad judgement. Besides, only Seniors can go to the Senior year kick off pot-luck; no Sophomores allowed.

After insistent fussing from my mom about how I need to get out more and how Mason needs to be more supportive of his sister, we got her to agree to some sort of compromise. Mason would drive to Grooves before the pot-luck and then would come pick me up afterwards. I would be out of the house and Mason and I would have "happy sibling driving time!"

I was at Groove for a total of four hours that day, and even though I love the store and Hyde is great, it can get boring after awhile. After rummaging through all the Alternative bins and sampling a few records on the in store turntable, I found myself plopped down on the couch in front of the windows of the store, mindlessly braiding and unbraiding my hair.

"You know I have a strict no loitering policy, right?" Hyde asked me as he sorted albums into bins.

"I'm waiting for my brother to come pick me up,"

"Great, then make yourself useful," he said, dumping his pile of records into my lap. "I still have some tax files I have to finish filling out so while I go do that, you can return all these to their rightful bins."

"Hyde I don't work for you," I called out to him as he started towards his office.

"I'll give you five bucks if you finish the pile,"

Realizing that I didn't have anything better to do I agreed and started sorting.

I had been doing this for a half an hour when someone disturbed my scientifically calculated sorting process to ask me a question.

"Hey, could you tell me if you have Billy Joel's album _The Stranger?_ "

"Sorry, I don't work here," I answered, glancing up at the inquirer. Turns out I knew the guy. He was a Senior named Jay who had been best friends with Mason since their Freshman year. The two had always been together during their first two years of high school, but last year Jay started showing up at our house less and less and he straight out disappeared during the summer. My parents kept asking Mason where he had been and Mason always replied with the same unknowledgeable, "I don't know, I think he is visiting family or something."

"Oh, hey," Jay said, clearly just recognizing me, "you're Mason's little sister, Lily right?"

"Um yah, hi."

"Is Mason here?"

"Uh, no. He is at the Senior kick off thing. Why aren't you there?"

"Oh, um, I just got back. I was visiting with family all summer over by Cape Cod."

"Oh, uh, that's cool." Now you need to know that in the three years I have known Jake we had never really had a particularly lengthly conversation. I tend to try to avoid Mason as much as possible, which results in me also avoiding whoever Mason is with, which, in the case of the past few years, had been Jay. So, yah, I was really confused by the blatant friendliness. I mean I was expecting a "Hey," and maybe a smile of recognition, sort of like you would give to that weird kid that you were friends with in that one class because you didn't know anyone else, but since then you have tried to not really be their friend anymore despite their upfront advances. Anyways, the situation was weird and awkward and I tried to end it as quickly as possible. "So, um, I think you might be able to find that Billy Joel album over in the Rock and Roll section. Try looking under "B" first and if it's not there maybe look at greatest hits or something. Otherwise ask Hyde if he has any in the back. Sometimes he stores extra copies of popular albums back there, or he might have just gotten some new ones and just has been to lazy to put them out."

"Ok, thanks," Jay replied with a smile as he made his way over to the Rock and Roll section.

Just then, Mason came through the doors and upon spotting me, started over, "Hey, I have been calling you and texting you for 5 minutes now. Can we go?"

"Hold on, I just have to finish sorting these last few records."

"Why are you sorting records? You don't work here."

"Hyde needed some help and since I was stuck here waiting for you I thought I would lend a hand."

"Who the hell is Hyde?"

"He is the owner of the store," I said, placing the last record in its bin. "Now let me go get my money and we can leave." I headed back to Hyde's office and poked my head in through the doorway, "Hey Hyde, I'm leaving, I need my money."

"Here," he said, taking out a five dollar bill from his pocket and handing it to me. "Oh, and what you said early gave me an idea. I could use some extra help around here so how would you like a job?"

"Am I even old enough to have a job?"

"You're 16 right?"

"No, I'm 15."

"Oh. Well, then I can just pay you under the table, sort of like an allowance system or something."

"Thanks, Hyde, but um, I don't really think I should be trying to manage a job right now."

"Right, because you are so busy hanging out at record stores all day."

"Hyde, you know what I mean-"

"Yah, ya you're right. Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's cool," I replied with a weak smile. I really appreciate how I never have to explain anything to Hyde. He just sort of picks up on everything with out me having to say it.

"Well, anyways, stop by any time you like. Just because school is starting doesn't mean I expect to lose my most loyal costumer."

"Don't worry I'll be around." Smiling I walked out of Hyde's office, only to find Mason in conversation with Jay.

"Hey how about you come hang out?" Mason was asking Jay as I walked up.

"Um, like now?" Jay asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Yah, now, why not?"

"Um, sorry man, but um, I gotta get home. I haven't been home in a while and my mom is making me stay home."

Mason smirked, "You're really not going to hang out because your mommy said you had to be home for supper?" he patronized.

"Look, it's either I spend time with her tonight or I have to spend the whole weekend with her."

"Mason," I interrupted, "Can we go?"

"Just hold on a sec," Mason responded.

"Uh, no, go on. I have to go pay for this anyways," Jay replied, holding up his Billy Joel record.

"Mason lets go," I whined.

Mason groaned. "Whatever man," he called out to Jay as he headed out the door, me following behind him.

"What was all that about?" I asked Mason as we got into the car.

"What?" he answered.

"Well that seemed like a pretty awkward conversation"

Mason just shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't know," and we rode the rest of the way home in silence.

Not that I really care about Mason's life, but he and Jay seemed to be really close. Almost as close as Lexi and I were. I guess that even the best friendships can fade into nothing. Just like everything else in the world, they fall victim to decay. I guess Mr. Keating from _Dead Poets Society_ was right. We are all just food for worms my friend. Nothing is going to change that. The only thing we can change is when the worms finally come to feast on our flesh. To be honest, being devoured by ravenous worms sounds a lot better than starting school tomorrow. Maybe Lexi was on to something after all.

Still not sure how to end these things,

-Lily

P.S. For something that is suppose to be really inspiring, _Dead Poets Society_ is rather depressing.


	3. Chapter 3

Tue. 8/27/2013

Dear Journal,

Whoever came up with the idea of high school is an idiot. Seriously, who thought it would be a good idea to stick a bunch of kids who are all in completely different stages of their lives in one building where their actions will determine the rest of their lives. You've got the skinny, little pre-teen boy sitting next to the guy who is six foot three and bearded and girls who are still in training bras walking in the same halls as girls who are pregnant. Everyone is fake, everyone is cliquey and everyone is willing to do what ever it takes to reach a higher social standing. Conformity is doctrine and individualism is persecuted. So for the girl who has no idea who she is and who lost her one ally in this sea of judgmental wanna-bes, high school is like the deepest circle of hell.

The day started off in the typical fashion, leaving the house at an ungodly hour in order to get a parking spot, looking down in the halls to avoid making eye contact with people, having to try three different combinations till I remembered which one unlocked my locker, same old, same old. That was when same old ended.

Apparently, news of Lexi's suicide had traveled fast, for everyone in our grade and beyond seemed to know about it, even though most of them didn't even know who Lexi was. Well, that is everyone expect the administration knew. In at least three of my classes, the teacher called Lexi's name on the role and everyone time I was the one that had to explain that she wasn't going to be coming because she was dead. All through out the day, I felt people watching me in the hallways, whispering under their breath. Not many people at the school actually know who I am but they do know that Lexi and I were always sort of a packaged deal. The two red heads that were always together and now the pair is one ginger shy. The only good thing about it was that no one talked to me. I guess they thought I must of been unstable or something. I'm sure once the news of what really happened sinks in I will get plenty of those fake pity statements, but for now I plan on enjoying the quietness and solitude. I don't want to talk to them, just as much as they are afraid to talk to me.

The only time that the loneliness of it all really struck me was during lunch. Lexi and I were usually able to find some secluded table that the two of us sat at alone or with a few other outcasts who needed a chair, but now without Lexi and my knew identity of being the friend of the dead girl, I was completely on my own. I thought I would be fine eating lunch on my own, especially since the roar of the cafeteria would make me completely invisible, but as I sat on my own and felt everyones' judgmental eyes on me, my teenage self consciousness kicked in and I decided to skip lunch to find a quite corner in the library instead.

After lunch I had study hall, but it was short lived when I got a call from the office telling me to go to Ms. Teil's office. I didn't even know who Ms. Teil was, but apparently she is the school psychologist. _Great,_ I thought, _another psychologist to tell me I'm crazy._ So I headed to the office and one of the secretaries pointed me to Ms. Teil's office. She was busy with another student so I had a seat outside her office and waited. Fifteen minutes later, the door finally opened…

…and out came Jay.

"Oh, hi," he said, clearly startled to see me there.

"Hey," I replied quietly.

"I um… I was just…" he stuttered. At first I found it highly amusing, seeing someone I always thought of as so collected reduced to blubbering mess of uh's and um's, then my morals kicked in and I started to feel bad for him. Clearly he didn't really want anyone to know that he had been seeing the school psychologist. Especially the little sister of one of his best friends. But before I could say anything Ms. Teil popped her head out of her office.

"Miss. Stevenson you can come in now," she beckoned.

I nodded and started to follow her into the office. Just before I closed the door I turned around and and called out to Jay.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone I saw you here."

He smiled and said "Thanks," before turning and heading out of the office.

"Hello Miss Stevenson. My name is Ms. Teil, the school psychologist. Please, take a seat." We both sat down, she at her desk, I in the chair across, legs crossed and arms crossed, completely blocked off from intrusive shrinks.

"So I just wanted to say Hi and check in. I know that you had a difficult summer and I just want you to know that I am here to help." All I could think was _Seriously, a_ difficult _summer. Well that's the understatement of the century._ Ms. Teil continued, "Anyways, how are you?" she questioned looking at me with a look you would give towards a starving puppy.

"I'm fine."

"Lily, this is a safe place, you can talk here."

"Really, I'm fine."

"Okay. Do you have people you feel you can talk to about Lexi or about things you may be feeling?"

"I'm not a very talkative person."

"No other friends, siblings, a teacher, your parents?"

"I'm not a very friendly person."

"Okay. We heard from your parents that you have started seeing a psychiatrist. I think this will really help you. It will help you get a new perspective and really offer you some support. But, if you ever want someone else to talk to my door is always open. My advice to you for now would be to try and branch out. Join some clubs, get involved, it will keep your mind busy and it will also allow you to meet other students, make some new friends. Okay?"

I nod.

"Okay. Thanks for coming in." She offered me a pass back to class but I turned it down, saying that I was just going to study hall. Thus marked my second encounter with a shrink within a week, what a great start to the school year.

I texted Mason saying that I didn't need a ride home, something that I'm sure he was happy about since no one wants to be seen schlepping around their mentally unstable baby sister who was friends with the even more mentally unstable girl who killed herself, especially an asshole like Mason. Instead, I walked to the nearby Starbucks and got a frappichino before heading over to Grooves.

I was looking through the new Alternative arrivals when he showed up again.

"You know for someone who doesn't work here, you seem to spend an awful amount of time at this place." I turned around and there was Jay looking down at me with his blue eyes with a smirk on his face.

"I could say the same about you," I replied.

"Ah, but see, I actually do work here," he said, holding out his employee name tag attached to the Grooves lanyard around his neck.

"Since when?"

"Yesterday actually. That was the real reason I came in the store. I just thought I would make a better impression if I bought something first and _Strangers_ is my favorite album."

"Um, cool," I stumbled as I turned back to the bin of records not really sure what to say.

"So Alternative music. You definitely look the part," he said as he started flipping through the bin next to me.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"You're wearing checkered, high top converses, ripped black jeans, and a Mumford and Sons t-shirt. Not exactly the typical-white-girl style of dressing."

"Sorry for trying to be an individual that doesn't mindlessly accept the typical teenage trends."

"But you see, you are adopting the typical trends of an alternative teenager. Therefore in trying to be an individual, you are actually being just another clone of a popular subculture."

"Whatever Mr. I'm-so-cool-because-I-listen-to-old-music-like-a-sophisticated-prick." Instead of embarrassing him, the comment just made him laugh, which of course infuriated me. "Look, you don't need to act all friendly towards me. I won't tell Mason about seeing you at Ms. Teil's today so how about you just leave me alone instead of trying to act like we are friends," I said as I headed towards the door.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I was being friendly because I actually wanted to talk to you?" He asked, following me. "Did it ever occur to you that we aren't actually that different and maybe we could help each other?"

I stop and turn to face him, "I don't need any help."

"Really, cause I was under the impression that psychologists were suppose to help those in need," he replied sarcastically. I turned to leave again. "Look ignore me if you want but I may be the one of the few people at school who actually know what you are going through," he continued.

"Your best friend committed suicide?" I snarked.

"I mean I have been through my fair share of therapy. All I'm saying is if you want to talk to someone who isn't a person paid to be a Freud-wanna-be, I can help."

"Thanks, but I think I can manage." I replied before finally completing my act of storming out of the store.

It's times like these that I really miss Lexi. She would of loved to hear about Jay's act of conversation. She would of laughed about how self-obsessed people are and how everyone thinks they are a gift sent from heaven above. Besides, I always thought she had a little bit of a crush on Jay, which would make his interest in me that much more of a delicious piece of gossip to share. I wonder if she thought of this when she decided to do what she did. I wonder if she thought about all the stuff she would miss out on after she was gone. Never having a real boyfriend, never getting her driver's license, never getting into college, never even graduating from high school. She will eternally be the individualist, rebellious, free-spirited fifteen year old girl of my memories.

Even after just one day of school I have a thousand things I wish I could tell her, and yet I will never get the chance to. I have lost the one person I could tell anything and everything to, but who apparently couldn't tell anything and everything to me.

-Lily

I have decided on a way to actually use this dumb journal. Instead of writing to the inanimate journal itself, I have decided to write to Lexi and tell her the things I would be telling her if she hadn't decide to off herself in the woods one day.


	4. Chapter 4

Wed. 8/28/2013

Dear Lexi,

Man that looks so much better than just a stupid "Dear Journal".

Today I actually decided to try some advice I got from a shrink. Not Pits, obviously, but the much more sensible seeming Ms. Tiel. She told me to branch out and join clubs so after school today I went to the first book club meeting. I know book club really isn't the coolest of after school activities, but I feel like at this point my reputation can't get much worse so why should I care if people seem me at lame-o book club. Besides, you always liked to read, which is why I picked book club because I felt like it was something we would of done together.

I didn't really know many of the people there. The librarian lady who ran the club had us all introduce ourselves and then asked us what kind of books we would like to read that year. I didn't really say anything, but at the same time, no one else really did either. Like I said, book club doesn't really attract a very lively crowd. I sat next to a junior who said she had just moved to Shermer from some suburb of Akron. She seemed nice. The reason why I mentioned her is because she asked the librarian if we could read some John Green books. This made me think of you since you liked to read that one John Green book, _Looking for Alaska_.

Anyways, the librarian gave us our first book - _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ by Stephen Chbosky. I was excited about this since the book was just made into a movie that had that girl from Harry Potter in it. I wish we had gone to see it last year when it first came out in theaters.

Besides book club, nothing really happened at school today. People stared and I ate lunch alone and teachers tried to be funny and students slept even though it was only the second day.

I went home right after book club since the only other place I could really go would be Grooves and I didn't want to see Jay again. I have been reading _Perks_ , ever since I got home and it's really good. So good that it actually worries me. See the book starts with the main character, Charlie, writing letters to a "friend" and in the first letter he talks about his friend from the previous school year killed himself. I feel like I really don't need to further point out the similarities. The thing that worries me is that Charlie is a lot like me, but he is also very strange and obviously unstable and troubled. Maybe my parents were right to send me to therapy after all.

There is this one line at the beginning that really stood out to me. Some guidance councilor is talking to Charlie about his friends death and Charlie says, "As much as I feel sad, I think that not knowing is what really bothers me."

I'm sorry if this feels like I am attacking you, but I cannot stress to you how much this rings true. I am very sad that you are gone, but I think what makes me the most sad is that I didn't know about your demons. I just wish you would of told me.

Love,

Lily


	5. Chapter 5

Thur. 8/29/2013

Dear Lexi,

Today didn't go so well.

To be honest, that was an understatement. Today was bad. Today I snapped.

It's all started when that bitch Carol put up flyers around the school with your face on it. I saw the first one as I headed to first period. There you were, happy and smiling in a picture from your Facebook page that we took last year (unsurprisingly, they cropped me out). I stood there, staring at you, completely bewildered, since I couldn't figure out who would of been putting up pictures of you. The flyer was for a memorial service for you, saying that there will be a table set up in the cafeteria for the next two weeks for anyone who wanted to make a donation to your family or volunteer to help set up the service. The signs read that if I wanted to know more I could go to  .com, which is what I did as soon as I got to first period.

They had made a whole website just for you. They had pictures of you stolen from Facebook, a bio page, a donation page and even a page just for people to leave you messages (like you could read them). As I scrolled through your new ripoff Facebook profile, I couldn't help but think who the hell did all this. I mean am I wrong to say that I was the closet friend that you had? And if it wasn't your best friend who made this remembrance webpage and was organizing a memorial service, than who was.

I assumed that it must be someone in the school, since that was where all the posters were, but I just kept on thinking how you never liked anyone in our school. And frankly, I never thought that everyone liked us that much either.

My confusion only heightened when the memorial service and website were mentioned again during the morning announcements. So naturally you can imagine my curiosity to figure out who was behind it all, and when I walked into the cafeteria for lunch, I got my answer.

Sitting at a table sporting a huge pink poster version of the flyer was none other than Carol Christerson and her fellow slut underlings.

Yes, the same Carol that teased us incessantly. The same Carol that pantsed me in coed 7th grade gym class, revealing my old pink pock-a-dot Target underwear to everyone. The same Carol that copied all of my 8th grade Spanish homework, but still pretended to not know my name. The Carol that you gave me permission to hate for the rest of my life because of all the shit she put me through. That same Carol was the one who organized a memorial service for you.

The following is my best recollection of what happened next, since I was practically blinded by anger from the moment I saw her.

I stormed up to the table, glared down at her and with as much menace as I could muster said, "What the _hell_ are you doing!"

"We are taking donations for Lexi's family and organizing a memorial service in her honor. Would you like to volunteer?" Carol asked with her infuriating, fake, perky, smile of pure evil.

"What makes you think you have the right to do this! You didn't know Lexi. You were never anything but mean to her."

"Lily, I know you miss her. We miss her too-"

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HER!"

"That's not true. She was my friend-"

"SHE HATED YOU! All you ever did was harass her and tease her! How dare you say that she was your friend!"

"Lily plea-"

"WHERE WERE YOU! Huh? If you and she were such great friends then where were you when she would spend all night crying? Where were you when she refused to go home? When she ran off in the middle of the night? Did she come to your house when her mom drank herself into oblivion? Where were you when she was lying dead in the woods?!"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

"I WAS THERE!"

" Oh really? If you were such a good friend to her then why didn't you stop her? Why didn't you reach out to her? Why didn't you help? Why didn't you save her!?"

That was when I launched myself over the table and tackled that bitch to the ground. And I was screaming, and hitting her, and I could feel the splatter of her warm blood on my fist. Then the security guard pulled me off of her. He was gripping my arms so hard that it hurt, restraining me from attacking her again.

He took me down to the principal's office, never once letting go of my arm. I sat outside the office, ugly crying as they called my parents and Carol's parents. I was still crying when my parents showed up, but I didn't get a chance to talk to them before they went into an hour long meeting with the principle, Carol's parents, the security guard, and Ms. Tiel.

By the time my parents came out of the principal' s office my eyes were red and puffy and my throat felt like sandpaper, but I had stopped crying. They told me to get my stuff form my locker and meet them back there. I asked them what was going on, what happened in the meeting, but they just told me that I was going home and that I needed to get my stuff.

I don't regret yelling at Carol, but I do regret attacking her. I just couldn't take it. I couldn't take her using your death to reinforce her social appeal. She saw an opportunity to make herself look like a saint and she took it. Looking back on all of it, I can't stop myself from thinking that maybe if she had actually been a friend to you like she said she was, then maybe you would still be here. It's funny how people are so willing to show kindness to the dead, while they refuse it to the living.

I have been sitting alone in my room ever since my parents took me home. They are still sitting in the kitchen, talking. I'm sure it's about me, but they still won't tell me anything. I've been reading _Perks_ and listening to The Lumineers. That song you liked, "Don't Wanna Go", came on and because it reminded me of you I listened to it three time in a row. It wasn't until the third listen when I was really paying attention to the lyrics that I understood why you liked it so much, a revelation that caused me to listen it a fourth time. It's a mournful song, for a mournful girl.

I really wish you were still here Lex.

Love,

Lily


End file.
